Sin City (SAMPLE)

✟ What led them back to the Hood

The Jamaican language in this chapter is off but it's to my liking and will not be changed.

6 years prior

Anwar scratched at his beard, as he stood on the patio in his backyard eyeing the Italian waterfall that sat in the center of his freshly manicured lawn. Although he had grown up in Jamaica around water, Anwar hated it because it brought back memories of when he couldn't afford it when he was younger.

However, he did find the sound soothing.

He was a poor hoodlum, running through the slums stealing just to get money. Anwar was so poor, he only owned one set of clothes and didn't possess any shoes.

Now, Anwar could afford to buy whatever he wanted. He was one of the biggest Kingpins in the south, with an operation that was bringing in 5 million a year.

Cocaine was pure coming straight from Columbia, Heroin was driven over by boat from Mexico, and weed was grown in his hometown by himself which is how he owned such a thriving operation. The operation base started in Dallas ranging from Miami, New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, and Arizona.

Of course, a Kingpin couldn't run an operation on his own, so Anwar had his best friend Rory to help him. Anwar and Rory actually met when Anwar came to the states and decided to make Texas his home.

Anwar's parents had been killed execution-style back home in Jamaica when he was six, by a local gang who had been racketeering small business owners. Of course, he didn't leave before getting revenge, vowing to bury his sins in Jamaica and start fresh but that didn't last long.

When Anwar had gotten down to his last dime since all his money was going to food and the motel he was staying in, not to mention he hadn't found a job yet. In order for him to get more money, he did what he knew how to do best, rob.

Rory happened to be a young corner boy at the time, working for a nigga named Ceaser. Ceaser wasn't a big-time dope dealer, but he had enough money to own two traps and have a few workers.

Anwar stood at the end of the alley with a hood on his head, discreetly looking down the sidewalk while casually puffing on a Black and Mild. The smoke fled out of his small nostrils, as his sleepy brown eyes rested on his target who was talking loud and being a showoff.

He had stacks of money, flashing it in his hands while talking cash money shit. The target was dressed down in a leather Louis Vuitton jumpsuit, with a big gold rope chain around his neck and a gold Rolex showing his success.

A sadistic smirk crept upon Anwar's lips, as he flicked the Black and Mild. Smoke crept from his lips, as he ran his tongue over them and inhaled the cold December Dallas air.

Anwar looked down the block, at a well-known crackhead he'd grown to know due to his stay at the Motel. He nodded his head slowly, as the crackhead better known as Hit since that was what he was always looking for.

Hit began to walk down the sidewalk, staring at the rundown Reeboks he owned making his way over to the flashy corner boy known as Speedy. Once Hit made it over to Speedy, the two exchanged a few words before Speedy told Hit to meet him in the alley which is where he kept his stash.

Of course, Hit nodded and made his way to the alley where Anwar was now hidden behind a dumpster trying to contain his excitement as he stared at the automatic weapon he was clutching. The machine gun he'd spent the majority of his money on, was in dire need of his touch.

He was feigning to let off rounds just to let the city know he wasn't anything to be fucked with.

Rory sat in a parked candy red Chevy Caprice, behind tinted windows running his tongue over his lips as he stared at Shaniqua. Shaniqua was short, standing at 5'0 even with milk chocolate skin, a fat ass that put her in a size 12 in jeans, and her weave stayed fresh all the time.